"You? What? How?" Remulus, the Pavilion Master, seemed at a loss for words. He slowly left his desk and grabbed Oscar's arms, sweeping his gaze over every inch of Oscar's figure. Despite his increased physical power, Oscar could not escape his grandmaster's powerful grip and waited for him to settle down. The physical powers of a King Exalt were truly astounding.

Remulus let go of Oscar's arms and smiled, "A lost son of our Pavilion has returned, and not just anyone, my grand disciple, the hero!" He exploded into joyous laughter while slapping his knees, making Oscar step back and turn to Elder Saul, who simply shook his head as if to say there was nothing they could do. Oscar was helpless to do anything against the old Pavilion Master and waited for him to calm down.

"Ahem…forget that for now." Remulus coughed and rubbed his bald head. "Oscar, how have you returned? Ashen Grove is sealed. Not even our powers can break through the barrier in the spatial domain."

"I am curious about that as well. Remulus, get out the good snacks. I was about to offer my biscuits, but the lad doesn't appreciate them." Elder Saul pulled out several chairs and arranged them around Remulus's desk. The old Pavilion Master scoffed and grumbled, but he pulled out trays of cookies, macarons, and packs of tea. Oscar and Fred helped themselves to a seat as the Pavilion Master poured out the tea, placing a cup before each person.

Oscar sipped some tea and exhaled steam, his pores opening and tingling from the deep herby flavor. The flowery scent of the tea brought him to a nice calm. Swirling the tea around his cup, Oscar was reminded of his master, Draven, and his current imprisonment in Rurin Gaols. The herby flavor turned sour, and Oscar placed the cup down, rubbing his forehead in distress. It felt wrong to enjoy all of this without his master beside him.

"You're worried about your master. I understand." Remulus put some snacks on a plate and gave them to Oscar. He seemed to understand Oscar's thoughts. "We can talk about him later. For now, let us know what happened after you were lost in Ashen Grove."

Oscar shared everything he had been through for the past few years. This was the third time now that he had to talk, and his mind felt tired at the mere thought of constantly having to retell his past. Everyone else listened in silence, lending their attention and ears to his every word. Tired, Oscar finished and sipped the lukewarm tea, pushing the cup away after putting it down.

"You met a Primaere! Astounding. Not many can claim to have done the same." Elder Saul exclaimed while munching on some snacks, smacking his lips without manners.

"Incredible. But I am more concerned with this New Dawn you speak of. Our enemy is in contact with them. Who knows when they might start using Reis Cores in battle." Remulus sharpened his gaze and knit his brows. "We're barely at a standstill at the borders as it is. If a couple of berserkers enter the fray, our forces may be overwhelmed. Do you know of them, Saul?"

"No. Not in any of my travels have I encountered any of their ilk. According to the lad, they're well-hidden and are the ones to initiate the contact. Perhaps I did encounter them, but without prior knowledge, I would not know their identities." Elder Saul said, frowning. "Tricky. Very tricky, indeed."

Shocked, Oscar turned to Elder Saul and stared in disbelief. From all the years he knew Elder Saul, there was never a moment when Elder Saul didn't have an answer. Elder Saul was there with an answer whenever he had troubles or questions, which only heightened his fear of the New Dawn and how insidious they were.

"Oscar. I promised Draven that I would reward you if you did well in Ashen Grove. Twenty years have gone by, but the promise still stands. Is there anything you want?" Remulus asked.

"If you can agree, I want two things," Oscar said. "First, I want an extract of the Divine Essence."

"That can be arranged. You brought it to us, after all." Remulus agreed. "What's the second?"

"Free my master from the Rurin Gaols," Oscar stated.

Everything and everyone halted in place, so silent one could hear the newly heated tea bubbling and foaming. Remulus sighed and wiped his sweaty brow with a napkin, looking visibly uncomfortable. Elder Saul closed his eyes, seemingly deep in thought, and Fred sipped his tea without a word. His second request was indeed outlandish, but Oscar refused to believe that his grandmaster would abandon his student so easily.

"Your master is imprisoned. If it were so easy to get him out, I would have gone and done it myself, but we, King Exalts, have been stopped from directly intervening. Without our power, it's impossible to breach the Rurin Gaols." Remulus replaced Oscar's tea with a fresh one.

"King Exalts can't fight?" Oscar said, confused. It dawned on him the reality of the war itself and the strange nature in which it was fought. Elder Saul alone could not be the deterrent against the numerous King Exalts surrounding the Empire, nor could he be everywhere to stop one from attacking. So what was it? Figuring out that only one existence had the power to control them, Oscar rose from his seat and exclaimed, "A Primaere?"

"Right, you are. The Primaere of the Bloodlands decreed the prohibition of King Exalts and the delay of ten years, forbidding any attacks and hostilities in that time." Remulus said.

"Why?" Oscar asked. There was no reason for a Primaere to put on restrictions as strange as these. It was almost as if the Primaere was supporting the Blue Ocean Pavilion, at least indirectly.

"Gilbert Lockwood," Remulus said. A name that Oscar didn't expect to hear, not right now. Oscar turned to Fred; his friend shrugged and looked confused as well, having the same lack of knowledge as him. He turned to Remulus, who continued to explain, "The conditions the Primaere set for the war are favorable to us because of him."

Oscar listened and got the gist of the situation. Every hundred years, the Primaeres organize a great tournament, known as the Primanomachy, to pit their factions against each other. A Primaere faction was usually far beyond their subservient forces like the Blue Ocean Pavilion, but if a talent appeared, they would groom that talent to fight for them. Gilbert Lockwood was one of those talents. Near the end of the ten-year block, the Primaere took Gilbert away to train in their holy land and become acquainted with the other participants. If Gilbert returned victorious, the Primaere would gift the entire Farsky Continent to the Brilliant Drake Empire.

Incredible. Oscar found it to be smart and cunning. The Primanomachy was still eight years away. The enemy also had a prior ten years to break down the Brilliant Drake Empire, so they had no means to protest the unfairness if they failed to win within the eighteen years with vaster numbers and resources. Also, having Gilbert be with the Primaere faction, away from home, for those twenty-three years would instill a loyalty toward the Primaere rather than here. In a carefully detailed decision with strange restrictions, they quelled any dissent and gave themselves two decades to lull Gilbert over to their side.

"Did they say they would marry one of their own to him?" Oscar recalled when Fenu tried to marry off his granddaughter to him. Marriage was the surefire way to tie a person to be loyal and have a sense of security. A Primaere surely would do the same.

"They did, and he agreed. All the talk about waiting for the upcoming generations to be battle-ready are true, but not everything. Our greatest hope is to wait for Gilbert to become victorious and have the Primaere end the war for us." Remulus grunted. "I am powerless before the Primaere's decree and can only rely on my grand disciples. One got the Divine Essence for me, and the other will decide our fate."

"Right. He's Grand Elder Robert's disciple." Oscar said, reminded of Gilbert's status. "It's impossible for you to break my master out of prison."

"'I'm sorry, both to you and Draven. My hands are tied. And besieging that prison without substantial force is impossible. Our flanks will be exposed and put the Empire at greater risk." Remulus slumped in his chair, more exhausted than before, clearly overwhelmed by a weariness unmatching a great King Exalt like him.

"What if…there was a way?" Elder Saul chimed in, a slight gummy smile curling from his lips.

"A way? You said there was no way when I asked!" Remulus shouted, banging his hand on the table.

Elder Saul waved his finger around and pointed at Oscar, "A way has been found."

"What do you–" Remulus was about to ask before the door burst open. Oscar turned to the intruder and was stunned.

"Is that you, Oscar?!" A melodious voice sang out like a songbird, filled with shock. A woman stood at the entrance, her wavy pink hair draped down her shoulders as her yellow eyes glinted, trembling in Oscar's direction. Distinct scars spotted her cheeks, but her face was devastatingly beautiful, only elevated in charm by the scars, like how Avril's small scar on her forehead made her infinitely more adorable. Garbed in a fabricator's uniform, she lunged at Oscar and hugged him tightly. She shook him around in her embrace and cried out, "You're alive?!"

"A-Aunt Rosett?" Oscar stammered. At first, the thick smell of soot and fire choked his nostrils, then a sweet flowery scent came in as a refreshing tide, and Oscar relaxed, letting Aunt Rosett hug him around. "I'm back."

"Little brat, you're as tall as Draven now. He would have been proud to see you like this." Aunt Rosett let him go and cupped his cheeks, smiling with tears of joy. "Why didn't you inform me sooner, Pavilion Master?"

"Had to take the time to ask questions without you clinging onto him. Settle down, Rosett. We were having a discussion." Remulus scratched his bald head and waved Rosett down.

"About what?" Rosett asked, sitting down and sharing a seat with Oscar.

"Breaking my master out," Oscar answered as Rosett gasped. He turned to Elder Saul and asked, "What's the plan?"